*The views and opinions expressed in these stories are those of the individual authors and do not necessarily reflect AAFC's positions.
edited by Tiffany Diane Tso
Delia never saw anything like it. The four girls around her table poured the toyo directly onto their rice, no sabaw or broth to dilute it.
My learned silence and passive acceptance were good for avoiding and preventing familial conflict, even as those behaviors were reinforced by the outside world’s expectations.
the first time i was formally introduced to my pussy i was seven years old / my thighs had not even begun kissing yet
As each blossomed, one stubborn babe held tight — days past her sisters’ openings.
I can’t remember the last time / I had a meal like this / food I grew up with / that grandmother made
There isn’t a universal coming into feminism story, and I wanted to share my own experience, which is full of ugly mistakes, prejudice, and ignorance.
Every other year, I found myself at a new school, but I was always able to find a group of kids to fit in with, until one year I couldn’t.
IN THE MORNING / IN A HIGHRISE / BY THE BAY IVE / NEVER SEEN
Sometimes I forget that for the vast majority of my life I hated my eyes. It was a powerful kind of hate: subtle, yet all-encompassing.
For laypeople, “feminism” and “bra-burning” went hand-in-hand, which meant the idea was still too extreme for mainstream.
As the road straightens out, my reverie realigns itself with my reality, and I remember how fish sauce is, to the olfactory habitus of American society, well, fishy, which is to say suspect and repugnant.
The first time I ever watched Wong Kar-wai’s Happy Together was with my now ex-lover.
The word boulversé is French for “love stricken.” As a verb, it means to shake, to strike to cause a strong emotion.
Unlike the other guys I met on OkCupid, he called me after I let him feel me up in the abandoned Sears parking lot and asked me to dinner.
I remember watching everyone I knew dancing and having the night of their dreams, while I sat alone at a table eating cake just to look busy.
The excitement of moving into my first apartment was overshadowed by the faraway presence of my Lolo.
For my dad, the issue of my marital status was about fulfilling his duties as a father; for my mom, it was about reputation.
The first time I experienced racism was when I was 9 years old.
As unfair and misguided I felt their rules were, I was painfully aware of the generational and cultural gap between us.
It’s impossible to go back to a place of love without the people you love still there.